Struck Down
by AssortedScribbler
Summary: The best way to tame a dragon is to beat it at it's own game. Miranda/Andy
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Just playing. I know it. You know it. That's all.

**Summary:** The best way to tame a dragon is to beat it at it's own game. Miranda/Andy

**Struck Down: Part One**

A year had passed, possibly a little more, since that chance encounter outside the Elias-Clarke building, when Andy had waved and Miranda had laughed – privately – before they had reason to see each other again. Andy was still working for the Mirror, although in a considerably more favourable position than when she had applied, and had cause to be at the same gala as Miranda. Both had intended on avoiding the other – one, because she was worried for the other's reaction, the other because she was worried for her own. Miranda was not yet ready to face Andrea, and as always, the young woman seemed to know that, as they both discretely kept a sensible distance between them at all times while Andy covered the event.

The effort made Andy appreciate just how regally Miranda could command a room if she chose. There had never been a moment to pause for such a thought when she had attended these functions with the editor, it was always scrambling for the next name, trying to anticipate. The young journalist did wish the sight of the older woman, dripping in black fabric that caught the light at odd moments to stunning effect, her skin reflecting the lowered lighting in the manner of ivory, did not make her breath catch quite so much. Apart from tracking the young woman in her peripheral vision, Miranda did not allow herself any glance more detailed than that. An act she regretted later, when she could not remember the cut or the designer of the dress so she could form the picture in her own imagination, merely a hint of the darkest green she'd ever seen that would have complimented the brunette eyes she remembered.

A few months later, it was another event – this time, Andrea had been invited as a guest, not as a member of the press. She'd been entrusted to write a series of articles, and to no one's surprise but her own, she had excelled far beyond what had been expected. It had earned her a request for employment from a better, big paper and Miranda knew the girl would take it. Oh, she knew Andrea would question her loyalty to the Mirror, would work her notice this time, but she was meant for better things. It helped, Miranda considered, that she probably wasn't stepping over someone she felt obligated towards this time. Otherwise the silly girl's heart might have made the decision more difficult for her.

For half the evening, Andy maintained their previous distance although Miranda allowed herself a few chance glances in the girl's direction this time. It was a marvellously deep red gown for this event and Miranda wondered how a gown that wonderful had found its way to Andrea who probably earned half of its value in a year – then she thought of Nigel, and Emily, and considered asking them for no less than a second. Further than that, and the ridiculous notion was discarded. Any path that threatened to take her thoughts towards appreciation of the body wearing the gown was also derailed abruptly before it could begin its journey. Miranda merely appreciated the style, the cut, the fabric and how well it matched to Andrea.

Apparently, her intuitive ex-assistant had caught the wandering sapphire gaze one time too many and had taken them as permission to approach, because the brunette began to make slowly closing circles around the Dragon Lady, her dark gaze now reaching out to Miranda with a mixture of hesitance and determination. Unwilling to rebuff the encounter in so public a place, Miranda allowed the young woman to make her approach, grateful when two champagne glasses were apprehended from the waiter during the final swoop. As the last barrier peeled away from Miranda, in the form of some investor she'd not paid a whit of attention to, their eyes met and with some surprise, both found no animosity in the other's gaze. A shy smile was offered from the younger woman, along with the glistening flute of liquid that Miranda took gently, a nod being exchanged in return.

"That dress is a shade too deep for your complexion, Andrea."

"But otherwise palatable?" The younger woman finished, her tone lightly teasing as the wording imitated Miranda, showcasing her ever-present talent to still understand the unspoken words from her ex-employer. The silver head almost nodded and Andrea seemed to understand. It was as polite an opening into conversation as they both knew the editor was capable of. "Well, I don't have the Closet to run to when I'm in need anymore." Andy rejoined with a smile, deciding to allow the other woman the condescension in her greeting, if only because it wouldn't do to snap back in the middle of this event.

"I suspect Nigel is still as eager as ever to help perform miracles, after your little demonstration on his account." Miranda hid her smirk as she watched Andy's back straighten instantly and her expression whip away from the other woman.

"Nigel is a wonderful friend." Andy replied in what Miranda knew had to be a very modulated tone, her eyes trained carefully on the far wall, in the opposite direction the words were intended for.

"And very loyal to those he trusts." Miranda continued, knowing that they no longer had the luxury of time as she caught sight of another eye over Andrea's shoulder heading in her direction, with intent in its gaze. The indignant and quick reaction from Andrea was regrettable but necessary. That magnificent dark head swung back to look at her, mouth open to release some form of tongue lashing, until that widened gaze found her own. While Miranda was conscious of the difference in her own eyes, had allowed it to happen in order to communicate what she could not with words, the young woman's mouth dropping a little further open in surprise still made her smirk. There was understanding in the cool depths that the editor rarely revealed, but knew would placate Andrea sufficiently.

"I did wonder whether some of that trust was misplaced." The brunette finally said quietly, recovering herself with a rushed efficiency, her body still angled somewhat away from their conversation but her attention completely centred on Miranda.

"And now?" The silver-haired woman queried, her eyes darting away, at once making the question more and less significant.

"I'm still wondering." Cold eyes swung back, ready to snipe at the callousness of the reply, before her companion spoke again. "But I have hope." Andrea replied, her eyes a little more guarded now she'd smoothed away from the shock of seeing anything but fire in those ice blues, but Miranda saw a little of the shine she remembered from before Paris and she quickly turned her gaze away again. She had full confidence in her ability to control her actions when necessary, but her eyes were the most expressive feature she had and they would betray her to this woman. "After all," came that soft voice she remembered so well, much more close to her ear than she'd anticipated, "if the Dragon Lady can live on hope, I'm sure a lowly journo like me can afford some." She knew Andrea had to have noticed her neck muscles stiffen at the feeling of warmth on her skin and narrowed her eyes fractionally, in warning.

Apparently, the young woman did not seem inclined to press her luck any further and when Miranda finally allowed herself to turn, the back of that red dress was already being swallowed by the crowd behind her and there was a moment of uncomfortable déjà vu – of looking, but not finding. Of feeling curiously bereft. The entire matter was pushed away as another tiresome man swept in front of her and tried to grasp her hand, which she swiftly avoided before spreading her lips upwards in a smile as fake as her disinterest in where her ex-assistant had disappeared to.

Miranda knew the young woman had not expected their conversation to take that road – by the hopeful curl to her lips as she approached, Andrea had been hoping for a 'hello', perhaps edge in a couple of enquiries about Runway and Emily, before they both went their separate ways gracefully. But the editor never went into any situation unprepared and if anything was to come of this ridiculous connection with her ex-assistant, it would have to be in clear air.

It had almost been a surprise to hear Andrea bring up that evening in her hotel room – without walls, or make up, or shoes even on her part – the Dragon Lady comment had been too pointed to miss. It was the only time she'd allowed herself to think of those rotten, stagnant, pathetic excuses for tabloids that gave her ignorant monikas any moron with a thesaurus could create. Even more interesting was the impression that encounter had given Andrea hope – hope of what, exactly? That in the Ice Queen's chest beat a real heart than she'd stolen from the Tin Man? The idea made Miranda want to roll her eyes at the exaggerated fantasy.

However, the impudent girl had left her with an interesting idea.

A week or so after the benefit, Miranda was finishing a meeting with Nigel about a layout that stretched the boundaries of the word horrific, despite being uncomfortably close to the deadline for the issue, when the thought returned to her. The only colleague she'd known for so extended a length of time was usually her greatest strength, but the added side effect was also that he knew her better than most. It was unnerving, occasionally irritating and sometimes useful that he could read her mood with so little effort. Miranda hoped this would be one of the latter.

"You have Andrea's new phone number, I assume?" She said, her tone as soft as ever, not looking up. She'd expected a pause, in which he would frown and attempt to answer her with a question of his own. She'd expected resistance. She had not expected a slip of card to be placed gently on her desk, one end flicking onto the glass surface with a little snap and her slight pause as she registered the name and number written on the front must have given away her surprise.

"I had expected you to ask days ago." He said, a warmth in his tone she hoped for his sake was not amusement. Glancing up, Miranda shifted her fingers away from the card, wondering why she felt the urge to touch it at all. Who knew where it had come from, or who had touched it. Nigel was making a hasty retreat, which Miranda realised with a dangerous narrowing of her eyes did indicate he'd been affected by her simple remark, in a way Miranda was completely averse to. She couldn't let him think he'd gotten away with it, no matter how long he'd worked for her, or how loyal he was.

"Tell Jocelyn if this is not changed to something fabulously different by the time the Book reaches my house this evening, she will be utilising that redundant organ she laughingly calls a brain at some fast food chain with all the other imbeciles. That's all." The quickening pace to his steps as he left her office were satisfactory enough to have secured a smirk back over her lips and she settled back behind her desk, turning briskly to the next problem.

.~*~. .~*~. .~*~. .~*~.

That evening, Andrea Sachs received a rather strange text message. Or it would have been, if she had not known exactly who was sending it. She may not have the number programmed in her new phone – it had been part of her "leave it behind" movement – but she still recognised it. As if it could have been anyone else, with that last sentence. Although it could have been someone with a sick sense of humour, she supposed. But then, that would require someone at Runway who knew this woman's habits actually having a sense of humour and that kind of frivolity was drilled out of them all within days of contact with Miranda.

"No one walks away from me, Andrea, without my having the last word. That's all."

It didn't take any thinking to know where she'd gotten the number from. Only Nigel had it. Emily had her work number, in case of emergencies (the Brit had scoffed at the time that if there ever were an emergency, Andy would be the last person she'd call but the brunette knew the redhead was glad to have some way of contacting her. After all, who else was ever going to understand Em's daily frustration level?) But Andrea had considered that perhaps keeping in contact with Emily the way she had with Nigel wouldn't be good for either of them, at least until some time had passed – she had no idea whether Miranda would exact revenge for such disobedience on the part of her current assistant. Emily clearly had the same worry, and there was her loyalty to her world and Miranda to consider also.

It seemed now the worry was unfounded, and Andy found she was glad. When she was working late, she often thought about the sorry soul waiting around for the Book and understood from Nigel that had been Emily, consistently, since her departure. A few had come close to being considered, but they all slipped up eventually. Several times, she'd wanted to call, let Emily vent a bit, knowing she wouldn't be comfortable enough with whoever sat at the other desk to do so. Now, she could and would.

Focussing back on the text message, Andrea frowned. Then she smiled. Miranda was, on the surface, talking about their conversation from a week ago. Andy had left before the older woman could deliver her customary line and she'd exalted in her victory over the small phrase. But on the level of understanding it took to de-code Miranda, that wasn't what she meant at all. She meant Paris. Andrea sighed and leaned back on her couch, wondering if it would ever be possible to leave the thought of that place behind. And in a way, Miranda had spoken last – her recommendation to the Mirror. This new missive was a way of saying that this entanglement between them wasn't over.

Andy couldn't help wondering if it wouldn't be wiser to ignore the contact, wanting to lay to rest all the leftover ruckus from Runway. But... how many people did Miranda ever text? The twins? Emily on occasion, when she couldn't use the phone to call because of work. That put Andrea in a rather exclusive category, even if only because Miranda wanted some form of payback. Also, ignoring her previous boss was decidedly dangerous and not to mention rude. She decided she couldn't resist one last move on this game of theirs.

"Tell me, please, that you didn't enact Chinese water torture on anyone for this number?" Andy typed, subverting the topic completely.

"Nigel offered the information freely." Was the text she received in reply, aloof and somewhat intriguing. Had it really become so necessary for the editor to have the last word she would condescend to asking for small things like phone numbers? Andrea knew the man would not have offered the number unsolicited.

"And of course, after our conversation, you knew he would have it." Was her reply, a little sharp perhaps but hoping for some answers. The thought of Miranda using Nigel even now still brought a little tightness to Andy's mouth, though she knew it wouldn't have taken much persuasion on her friend's part. This entire set of circumstances felt like she was being led through a darkened room, guessing her way, and Andrea refused to feel that powerless in front of Miranda Priestley anymore. The reply took a little longer this time, ten minutes passed and Andrea almost began to breath normally again, before her new ringtone sounded once more.

"Have you discontinued your temper tantrum now?" Was the mocking text that blinked up at her and Andrea couldn't help growling a little. That was another example of dual layers – tonight, and Paris, all rolled into one conversation and Andy wished it was easier to have an honest, simple discussion with this woman.

"I would have thought you would be making every effort to remove the thought of me from your life." The brunette finally typed back, deciding with a deep breath that it was more conducive to keep her temper reigned in for the moment.

"I have. It was doomed from the beginning when Nigel and Emily continue to discuss you outside of my office. I can't decide if they don't like their jobs or they are foolish enough to believe I can't hear them when they're less than fifteen feet away." Andrea bit her thumb nail slightly as she made a mental note to warn her two friends of the impending cyclone that would head their way the next time they saw fit to discuss her in the office. The indication from Miranda that she wanted to hear nothing about Andy was odd, but not unexpected, although it did clash rather nicely with Miranda's current actions.

"I'm sure if you'd mentioned it, they would have discontinued the practise." That was the most defensive Andy could be without putting further jeopardy over both fashion devotees' jobs.

"With your warning, they should have done by tomorrow." The response irritated her, as if being used as a pet. Nevertheless, she sent a text to both the man and woman warning them against further mentions of her name.

"Is that why you contacted me? To pass along a warning?" She typed abruptly, wishing that typing on a mobile phone could be as effective as jack-hammering on a keyboard. There was none of the stress relief one got from typing heavily on keys on a keyboard.

"No." Was the only response she got and Andrea resisted the urge to reply, knowing she wouldn't get an answer. And that was the end of that slightly ridiculous conversation.

.~*~. .~*~. .~*~. .~*~.

It was another month before Andrea heard the name Miranda Priestley, aside from in casual conversations with Nigel and Emily. She'd recently been promoted, her writing was getting noticed and closer each day to the front of her current publication. It was gratifying to have her work recognised and to have her job inching slowly towards the "Enjoyable" edge of the scale, rather than hovering over "Interesting".

This interview had been with Senator Richards, who was planning to make some rather swift, sweeping changes to the education system – changes that Andy was not entirely sure were going to be beneficial. Apparently, her editor and the Senator had met at a party, hit it off well and he'd agreed to do the one-on-one interview for the Herald, despite its small size, so the brunette knew it had to be spectacular. She relished the opportunity though. They'd sat at the bar of the Ritz and talked for about an hour, her notebook was covered in scribbles and her audio recorder had been checked for sound quality. The article would be written this evening, once she'd had time to do some research.

She was sipping away the last of her Ginger Beer (non-alcoholic, obviously) when a maitre-de came over and hovered nervously just to the side of her. Thinking he was about to tell her to shift, Andy slung her bag over her shoulder and got up, giving him a slight nod as if to spare him the message, before his words brought her to an abrupt freeze.

"Ms. Priestley would like you to join her." Blinking, Andrea threw her gaze over his shoulder and swept the room, which made up the seating area for the hotel restaurant. Sure enough, sitting near the back wall in as private a place as it was possible to achieve in a room this size, sat the editor. Despite the silver head being tipped downwards, Andy could tell even from this distance she was being watched, carefully. Pushing the obvious questions about motives and circumstances from her, the brunette directed a sympathetic glance at the young man, who looked distinctly on edge.

"Please send Ms. Priestley my apologies, and tell her I'm late for another engagement." The watery blue eyes of the man in front of her suddenly went very wide and he began to shake his head slightly.

"Please Miss." He said rapidly in a hushed undertone Andrea knew he didn't need to bother with. Miranda had an acute sense of hearing, which was part of what made her such a devil to work for. "She wished for you to eat with her. Please!" There was almost a squeak in his voice now. Andrea sighed, knowing how much this poor boy had already irritated the infamous Ice Queen by not having the backbone to look her straight in the eye. Andy felt familiar sympathy edge into her expression and she put a hand out to him.

"I'll tell her." The brunette made her voice as warm and soothing as possible, and it seemed to work as the man began to breathe again and scuttled off in the direction of the kitchen. Andy resisted the heavy urge to roll her eyes at the self-satisfied smile she knew would be on Miranda's face at the reaction, before making her way across the quiet room towards the other woman, who was still observing her but now with a hint of triumph around her mouth.

"You certainly put the fear of the devil in him." Andrea said with a twist of amusement and dismay. Miranda flicked her wrist dismissively and gestured towards the chair across from her. "I can't stay, Miranda, that's what I came to tell you, because he couldn't. I have another meeting, and an article to write." Andy kept her expression void of reaction as twin steel-blue eyes fixed on her face.

"You would be eating lunch at some point during your day, I assume?" The voice matched the drop in temperature in the surrounding area. The slivers of blue lightening flashed down Andrea's figure, the implication one she'd never quite gotten used to during her time at Runway, so much so that she'd managed to keep her size four ass just to tease Nigel. Andy hoped Miranda hadn't noticed her hand clenching in her coat pocket. The last thing the young woman wanted was to give up possible ammunition. Directing her mind down a more logical path, Andrea tried to take a subtle, long breath.

"Aren't you meeting someone?" Andy nodded at the other chair. Miranda never went out to lunch by herself, it was always easier to have an assistant run out for her chosen meal of the day at whatever time she saw fit, and then promptly decide that was not what she wanted or eat barely half of it so it felt the whole journey was a waste of time and food. Andy had speculated that the older woman got her sustenance from the fear she inspired rather than food, like the rest of the mere mortals.

"I was supposed to be." Withholding a wince, she wondered whose job it had been to confirm this appointment and wondering if it was a reasonable sudden cancellation – Miranda got that icy fire in her eyes no matter what the circumstances surrounding a broken engagement, be it a genuine emergency for the other party – such as a serious hospital visit – or a mistake by her immediate subordinates. "Sit down Andrea." Miranda finally snapped, her patience with getting refused clearly already wearing thin. Much as Andy had no intention or wish to prolong Miranda's influence over her life, she did have a few questions. The bill would set her back by a week's wages, but hopefully, would be a balance to the answers she'd find a way to obtain.

Sliding into the other seat gracefully, the brunette retrieved her notebook from her bag and began to go through her notes from earlier, underlining or crossing out as appropriate. Andrea wondered whether she was going to be subjected to another reprimand about behaving like a child, could feel the ice burn from the look being directed her way, but refused to look up. She refused to do Miranda the favour of opening up conversation. The urge to babble out her nerves was gripped by her sensibility at last.

"Is this business, Andrea?" A low, frozen tone finally breached the gap and Andy shook her head, looking up at the other woman with a tiny smirk.

"No Miranda. I remember, vividly, how much you despise the paparazzi and I would never wish to add 'blood hound' to what I suspect is an extensive list of my failings." There was almost a smile in response and the brunette almost dropped her notebook. "I also remember how much you despise small talk." Andy finished before going back to studying her own handwriting.

"Do you not think this little pantomime is counterproductive?" Came the voice again, barely a second later, and Andy looked up in time to see an elegant hand lift a beautiful cut glass towards Miranda's lips, water being briefly sipped before replaced on the table. It was a serious competition with herself to ignore the action and make sure her subject did not clock her observation.

"In what way?" The brunette could have wished for a more steady voice just then.

"Well, if you intend not to speak throughout the entire meal, how will you ask me all those questions fluttering so chaotically inside your little head?" Before she could stop them, her eyes had risen and met Miranda's across the table, a little too wide not to be shocked. There was a smug look hovering over the other woman's face that matched her tone perfectly as she met the glance head on, her lips pursing slightly in encouragement of the disdained kind. Andrea wondered sometimes if the woman had sold her soul for Prada shoes, Valentino dresses and the ability to read minds. With an irritated twitch of her expression she took great pains to hide, the young woman put down her notes on the table with her pen tucked into the volume to mark her page.

"Fine. Why did you contact me?" The straightforward question was a relief – Andy hated playing at code-Miranda.

"You gave me no alternative." Miranda answered smoothly as the waiter approached and set a dish down in front of the editor, then Andy. With a flicker of annoyance, the brunette looked up, realising the older woman had ordered before she'd even asked her to join her. The gaze she sought was focussed upon its own plate and Andrea bit hard on the inside of her lip to release the remaining warmth in her blood that lingered from anger. At least it wasn't salad. Picking up her fork, Andrea levelled her gaze at the other woman, waiting the rest of her answer, not willing to ask. "Are you expecting me to explain?" Miranda added, her tone dripping with mock-politeness. Andy exhaled softly through her nose, both in exasperation and amusement.

"I know better." Andrea conceded, finally turning her attention to her meal. They ate in silence, both considering their next move. The young brunette wondered whether she ought to go back to her notebook – every other question she had could be answered by something as equally innocuous as the first was. And no doubt would be, if she chose to voice them. Therefore, she held them all back, and buried them for a time when she could finally find one that might draw a useful answer. Once they'd both finished eating, Miranda gave her a nod and stood, gathering up her coat and purse while Andy once again could only blink at her.

"Andrea, has your sight deteriorated so badly under the fluorescent lamps which are no doubt installed where you work that you are required to blink that often, or should I assume there is something wrong?" That was a tone Andy was very familiar with – she'd been berated by it for many months and it still managed to shoot adrenaline straight into her blood stream, the flight response ready and waiting.

"The bill?" She asked, looking up at the silver haired woman from her seat as she packed her notes into her satchel and began to search for her purse.

"Taken care of." Was the short response and Andy frowned, standing to give Miranda a full view of her expression. "Do not argue, Andrea. It's most unbecoming." This time, Andy really had to bite her tongue as she twisted her body away to pick up her things, not wanting to pick a fight now even if she did have a right to. She was not anyone Miranda should be paying for lunch for. She was capable of paying for her own food, even preferred to. But she knew from much previous experience that is was not an argument she could win. Slinging the long strap of her bag over her shoulder, Andrea turned around and found, oddly, that Miranda had waited for her. Despite however suspicious the action was, it was also shockingly human for the editor and Andy decided to take it on a little faith.

Together, almost in step, they walked to the front of the hotel before Andy turned to head in the opposite direction as Miranda's car pulled up to the kerb. Andy had managed to take a few steps, listening to the sharp snap of heels on the sidewalk to track Miranda's progress, the car door made its usual succinct noise as it was opened, when she heard her name being called softly, in that accent that made it unique to one individual. For a moment, the brunette closed her eyes, wishing away the pull of that whispery command. Then she turned back around.

Andy found burning blue eyes, bright and flashing with a glow she didn't recognise from any of the time she'd spent at Runway, resting on her shoes, travelling slowly up her legs, tracing around her torso before finally finding her face and a twist of a smirk made it over the pale, soft pink lips of the Ice Queen. Her usual, large, dark sunglasses were at the level of her nose, allowing Andy to see both pieces of Miranda's expression that were most likely to tell the truth.

"That's all." The voice was equal, normal, but the gaze had not been and as the sunglasses were slid back into place, Andrea couldn't help swallowing impulsively. She caught a glimpse of the smirk growing before the car door was shut and Andy could force herself to turn around, her feet once more resuming their staccato beat along the New York sidewalk. Only Miranda Priestley would have the nerve, the sheer utter nerve, to survey her in that manner on a street. In front of so many people. Probably because she was completely sure none of those people would be looking at her eyes – it took a lot more backbone than the average New Yorker possessed to meet that steely gaze.

And there was something... something different. Miranda always used to look her up and down, to check her outfit, her makeup, to ensure everything was perfect while she was at Runway, because it was expected that she maintain certain standards.

Andrea could never remember seeing that glow before today, though. And she was beginning to grasp what it had been.

.~*~. .~*~. .~*~. .~*~.

Three months after that lunch at the Ritz, Emily Charlton pushed open the door to the art department viewing room, her pace hurried and eyes glancing back over her shoulder at least ten times in a minute. Nigel didn't even look up, he could tell by the perfume and the shoes exactly who had entered his office and knew why she had come. In a vague sense anyway.

"Don't tell me. We've got a Miranda problem." He said calmly, moving the magnifying glass he was using a little to one side to examine the next print before finally straightening his back and feeling a few of his vertebrae crack. He was getting a little too old for this, or so his body told him. Emily threw one last look over her shoulder before drawing one hand over the air near her eyes and lifting the other one to place a bundle she'd been carrying on the worktop. Nigel grimaced in distaste at the volumes Emily had brought into his space.

"There's no need for that." He said, as if she'd done something very offensive, which in this case, she probably had but Emily was wound a little too tightly to see the wry humour.

"We have a problem." The redhead hissed, her nails beginning a rapid drumbeat on top of the stack of trashy magazines she'd just produced.

"I said that. Would you like to elaborate, or am I supposed to guess why you brought those filthy rags into my space?" His disgust was directed wholeheartedly at the lurid titles upon which Emily clearly meant to make a point.

"Do you know where I found these?" Emily asked in an agitated murmur, leaning over the surface Nigel was working on.

"In the trash, where they belong?" He replied archly and was surprised when Emily nodded her head sharply.

"Exactly. In the trash. She never puts them in the trash. She'll shove them just about anywhere on her desk, she'll turn them over, she'll even put them on the floor, but she never puts them in the bin. That's my job, in the evening or morning, before the new ones are arranged. I checked with the new girl, she didn't do it – she wouldn't be caught dead in Miranda's office after that debacle with the coaster two weeks ago. So why, pray tell, is Miranda ignoring two years worth of good old fashioned habit and throwing these – these – you said it, _rags_ in the bin!" The level of stress in Emily's voice rose with each sentence and Nigel, to his credit, actually began to take in what she was saying.

Gingerly, as if he might catch something, he reached out to the abominations Emily was glaring daggers at and flipped them open, one by one, looking for something that might cause their fearless leader to stuff the offending articles into a rubbish receptacle. After two, and then a third, presented a similar article and set of pictures, he knew what he was looking for and began to leave them open, spread out over the light table. Emily's breathing was beginning to deepen, anger beginning to creep over her face now she had an enemy to fight.

From the open pages of all the magazines Emily had rescued, smiled the glowing face of one Andrea Sachs. Many of the pictures were taken on different nights of the week, in several hot-spot locations, and in every photo she had someone else close by – a man, a woman, it didn't matter. Everyone in each picture seemed to be drawn to her. Several of the people around her were well known to the gossip columns, popular artists, a singer that had gotten into the charts recently, a few heirs to New York money. The articles from earlier on were focussed on those people, but as the brunette appeared in more places, with more people, looking so very stunning, the attention shifted to her.

How Andy had met these people, he couldn't fathom – perhaps through that friend at the art gallery, or through her work, but her natural friendliness was clearly bringing more into her social circle. The camera loved her and the paparazzi were clearly starting to appreciate the list of names she brought to their articles. Nigel had a very serious feeling of foreboding creeping up through his chest and was wondering if giving Miranda the business card had been a good idea after all. This had not been part of the plan.

"That woman will be the death of me. Or vice versa." Somehow, Nigel had a feeling Emily didn't mean Miranda this time.

.~*~. .~*~. .~*~. .~*~.

Nigel kept an eye on the gossip rags after that, occasionally, when he could bear the horrendous colours and catastrophic designs. He was closest to Andy of anyone at Runway and he knew in his heart that something was "up". Andy liked quiet nights in, with popcorn and a movie, Andy liked reading and eating dinner with friends. Andy did not like clubs, Andy did not alcohol that much and Andy did not swap her lovers like Miranda did her clothes. Another month of still seeing Andy's face in the magazines – admittedly, not as often, but he suspected that was simply because it was not shocking anymore – he finally thought he'd figured it out.

He knew Emily had finally succumbed to taking Andy's late night phone calls and the young redhead did look better for it – less twisted into ridiculous shapes, now merely her snobbish, sarcastic, efficient self and he knew Miranda had noticed. He'd yet to work out whether the editor knew why, or how she felt about the development if she did know, but considered the lack of reaction akin to permission from their boss, because really, there was such a small chance Miranda didn't know, it wasn't worth considering. Nigel was also aware that the redhead had threatened, rebuked, along with all manner of other unpleasant things, the younger brunette in an effort to cease her appearances in Miranda's magazines, still very uncomfortable with the change to such a wonderfully set routine.

He also had heard from Emily that the reply had been an adamant, warm but firm 'no'.

"Em, I do care about you, God knows why, but I do. But that doesn't extend far enough to influence how I chose to spend my evenings. Miranda no longer controls my life. I'm certainly not going to let a few magazines in a bin stop me from having fun. Besides, it's me she's mad at, if she is, not you." That had been of little comfort to the redhead, but she had eventually relented, acknowledging Andrea's point. The young woman was free from their dominating boss, she didn't need to care that this break in habit was disturbing and hinted at trouble, and maybe that was why Emily felt just a little jealous of the ex-assistant.

Both he and Emily heard also, through different sources, that the young journalist's escapades in the gossips had done her quite a bit of a favour – apparently, a humanised reporter was more appealing, someone the public empathised with and she was helping to sell several other magazines to boot. Nigel doubted any of those people looking for Andy's face every day had a clue why it was really there. Regardless of her motives, and due to the lack of scandal surrounding her affairs, which all remained remarkably amicable considering, a post was offered to her at the New Yorker – a very good post, in fact. And she accepted, naturally.

Nigel knew then he had to call, even if it was just to say congratulations. He knew the girl had dreamed of working for that paper for her entire career and she would be happy to share that joy. Her initial breathlessness when she answered the phone told him just how wide her smile was and he told her how happy he was, how Emily had even sniffed her praise a little at the news, and Andy laughed delightedly. She took him through her first few articles, told him where to look, and he hoped he would remember. She seemed to sense the next topic of conversation and sobered up quite fast, waiting for him to announce his view.

"Andy, I know I said drastic darling, but really... Page Six? Those terrible tabloid rags? It's marvellous you're having some fun, goodness knows you deserve it after all the hard work you've done to get your dream job, but all of that won't make you forget. Trust me." Nigel waited, hoping he had not been too hard on her.

"It's doing a pretty damn good job so far." She replied in a low voice, as if she was tired and Nigel tried to reach out to her.

"When I gave her your number, I expected some sort of reconciliation not handbags at dawn!" He hoped his tone was light and joking, despite not feeling that way at all. Ever since this dangerous game had started, he'd been avoiding a fizz at the back of his head, the warning of a shift in pressure, the calm before the storm.

"I told you not to get involved. Giving her my number was your choice, not mine. This is Miranda we're talking about. How did you not expect a little jousting?" There was a hint of teasing there, but not enough.

"Well, can you at least open peaceful negotiations sometime soon? You're giving poor Emily a stomach ulcer." He didn't mention the addition stress on himself, because he never whined, but he could have used a fair few others names on top of Emily Charlton.

"I can't make any promises and you know it, Nigel." She didn't sound very repentant and Nigel knew it was a lost cause appealing to a conscience in this situation. There was apparently too much invested in a battle-plan he wasn't aware of.

"I know Emily told you about Miranda throwing the magazines with articles about you in the bin. According to our dear Brit, you have made her break a steadfast habit of two years. Congratulations!" He really hoped to hear a smile, even a faint one, in her voice when she next spoke.

"It's a start." There wasn't as much punch to that triumph as he would have liked. "Is Em ok? I didn't mean to cause her any trouble." Now that was the Andy he knew and loved.

"She's fine, declaring war on everyone and nothing, planning your execution, traipsing after Miranda. Nothing new." They both chuckled a little.

"I'm glad Em'll never change. Tell her I say hi, and that she can call tonight if she likes, I've got a while before I head home. I think the venting is helping, even if it is mostly about me." There was an unmistakable giggle to that and Nigel felt much better.

"Talk to you sometime soon Six, we need a night out. Well, I definitely do. Think you've already got it covered for both of us." He teased and he heard a 'tut' sound as if mock-exasperated.

"Speaking of going out, I have someone I want you to meet. He's an artist from Brooklyn, but you'd never know it. He looks like he walked into the world in an Armani suit. I promised him I'd drag you out to see him." Andy sounded excited again and Nigel felt a tingle of similar feeling at the thought of finally meeting someone who understood what he did.

"Alright sweetie, just let me know when and where."

"You bet, speak soon!" Nigel felt a good deal better about his friend and himself by the time the dial tone sang in his ear then realised she'd used the same technique as she was using on herself on him. Cheeky madam. In the dearest sense.

.~*~. .~*~. .~*~. .~*~.

Two months after the enlightening phone call, an auction was held for several different charities by a wealth of magazine proprietors, sponsors and contributors. Andy's articles and growing standing within the publishing world led to her being placed in the last column, alongside many of the authors she'd looked up to over the years and a certain editor whom she'd not spoken to since their lunch around six months ago. The lack of contact had been deliberate on the young journalist's part – she knew Miranda expected her to make the next move, and in a way, she had. Andrea just had to wait, to see whether her actions had the desired effect.

The large gathering was ensconced in a luscious ballroom, with tables lining the walls that were alternately covered in food and items for the auction. Andrea and her escort this evening, a charming young man with Italian good looks, arrived quite early in the evening. Now that she finally had a little money to spare for things like this, the brunette intended to do some good with it and they used the early hour to make a circle around the edge of the hall, Andy bidding on a few of the smaller items, a picnic hamper full of luxurious food and drink, a weekend in Hawaii, that kind of thing, not paying much attention to her date. The guests were arriving fairly steadily, the crowd having a relaxed and easy feeling to it. Because of this, Andy knew the minute Miranda arrived.

There was an outbreak of excited and frantic shouting and flashing of lights from the entrance, where the press were gathered, and then a general quiet spread through the hall as everyone, in a slow wave, flicking their heads to watch Miranda enter, flanked as always by Emily on one side and Nigel on the other. Conversation did not stop completely, but it was clear everyone in the room was at least curious to see what the fashion maven was wearing, if not registering her mood. Andrea resisting looking around, even when her young man craned his neck around her to see what the fuss was about.

It was only when the room had returned to its usual beat and chatter rose back up that Andrea allowed her head to turn and register the presence she'd recognise anywhere in the corner of her eye. She caught a flash of smoothly entwined black and white that was undoubtedly Miranda's dress and briefly amused herself constructing a Cruella De Vil-esque vision in her mind's eye, with the editor's face, but dismissed it before she had to laugh at the ridiculousness. Knowing she would be in a position to observe the person she so wanted to see soon enough, she guided her escort to the edge of room again to check on the bids for their items. It took only a few carefully placed steps and she could steal a few looks in Miranda's direction without a hope of the other woman knowing.

Her dress was a swirl of black velvet, with white glimpsed under the layers of fabric when they fluttered, and it suited her perfectly, as if made for her. But then, all of the gowns Miranda wore – not necessarily just the ones designed for her - felt completely hers. Andrea smiled slightly to herself, thinking of James Holt and a disgusting red creation with a ridiculous bow that even she had known was a catastrophe, before firmly pushing all contemplation of the older woman out of her mind. That one assessment was all she would allow herself tonight. It was necessary, essential even. Concentrating on the man whose arm she was holding, Andy smiled wider and engaged in the conversation around her.

Across the room, Nigel was trying to watch both his friends at the same time, attempting to pin down exactly what was going on. Miranda was being her usual, gracious self that she adopted for these appearances but whenever she had a moment, her eyes would spin outward and find the figure they were both more interested in across the room. The slight brunette was in another dark colour – blackberry this time, a fact that should have made her easier to pinpoint in such a crowd, all of whom were partial to the same black tie formal wear. But the cut of the gown, which was a halter-neck and flowed downwards, making the most of those legs that went on for years and elegantly curved figure, made for a devastating effect on the attention span of anyone to catch sight of her.

It didn't exactly hug the figure beneath – but made the observer feel as though getting closer to find out was a mission they absolutely had to undertake. A subtle come-hither that was just this side of acceptable, considering she had company, and it was a comfort to know Andrea would never have been able to accomplish such a sophisticated elegance before her tenure at Runway. Nigel was proud of her. The long brunette hair was half up, twisted neatly at the back of her head while the rest brushed constantly against her shoulders and the top of her dress. A subtle silver chain hung across her collarbones, and a small diamond nestled in the hollow of the young woman's neck. Nigel couldn't have done a better job himself.

Disappointingly, same could not be said for the man currently sneaking an arm around the innocent beauty's waist. Well, perhaps she wasn't so innocent anymore – Nigel knew the glow from Andy's skin could not all be down to good make up and champagne. But the man also knew his dear friend was not investing her interest in that latino. A rather unpleasant vapour of heavy aftershave could almost be imagined wafting from the tanned skin, the dark hair slicked back as if to imitate Antonio Banderas and failing miserably. He wasn't unattractive, by any means, a Mediterranean build and tan to make any heterosexual female's mouth water, but apparently not Andy's. That young man, Nigel surmised, was nothing more than cover.

Miranda had been watching Nigel as he surveyed Andrea, and concluded from the unguarded confusion and dismay that filled his eyes that he had drawn similar conclusions to herself about her ex-assistant's company for the evening. Of course she was aware the young woman's tastes varied quite widely these days – she did glance into the horrendous drivel that she almost immediately relegated to her waste paper – but that young man did not seem to capture those dark eyes for more than a few seconds.

The editor of Runway was no fool. Andrea did not suit the role of manipulator, nor would Miranda have guessed that she would take to such a position so believably. It did not change the situation. Miranda refused to accept this was the answer to her overtones from their last encounter. The young woman she had employed was faithful to a fault, in every part of her life; this behaviour was so out of character it could only be a point. And Miranda knew the point had to be for her. Andrea was no longer under her thumb, she would not be pressed upon by her ex-boss anymore. A short, sharp, silent exhalation of breath through her nose was the only allowance the woman made to her irritation.

Why did the silly girl insist on surprising her?

Still, she was Miranda Priestley after all, and manipulation was her game. Andrea should have been aware by now that the older woman never lost anything she had set her mind to acquiring. The editor was in her own arena, in her natural setting and it was pointless to resist in such circumstances. Slowly, unnoticeably, Miranda began her approach in a similar pattern as Andrea had used, all those months ago. A less experienced attendee would have trouble following her progress, only her finely attuned awareness of the both the room and Andrea had bequeathed her the foreknowledge last time.

With a pace that was uniquely hers, Miranda navigated the room, keeping a constant check on Andrea's position, circling a little closer. A quick conversation and two glasses of champagne, and she'd closed the distance between them significantly. Satisfied she had yet to be noticed by the woman she was pursuing, she paused and made a short bid on a couple of items before restraining herself from turning her nose quite literally up in the air at the sight of immensely unhealthy food on the table nearby. It was upon turning back to her prey that she remembered a rule of the hunt – never take your eyes of the target. Andrea had moved, quite significantly, in the opposite direction from her, putting even more space between them than there had been. Miranda felt fire flash in her eyes and turned back into the conversation around her as a distraction.

Once she was sure the irritating girl was once again involved in the conversation of her neighbours, Miranda began another approach, in a vague kind of zig-zag that cut off most of Andrea's escape options. Not once, to her slight surprise, did she note the young woman's gaze anywhere near her, but not pointedly in another direction either. Almost as if the brunette was completely unaware of her presence at all, which Miranda knew was untrue. Just as she was about to make one last pass before stepping into Andrea's circle, a woman knocked into her, the drink in her hand coming perilously close to Miranda's dress and the editor was forced to wave the foolish woman away, apologies still falling from her like waves of rancid incompetence.

To her growing, wildly annoyed impatience, Andrea had once again made her escape, not quite as far but Miranda knew she would not reach her now unless she was willing to be direct and her ex-assistant knew she would not do that. A chill of fury settled in her veins and Miranda promised herself that at the next event, she would corner the maddening young woman and force her to rethink her behaviour tonight, would induce a confession that it had been inexcusable. For a moment, Miranda allowed her fury to overwhelm her thinking, tempting her into striding straight across to Andrea and confronting her. The inclination was promptly reigned in as a microphone was picked up and the auction began.

With a twitch of relief, the editor was glad to notice Nigel had found her and was now by her side, Emily on the other, having followed Miranda on all of her tours in odd shapes around the room and no doubt wondering what purpose her boss could possibly have for taking the routes she had. It did not matter – Emily would not question it for long, and despite the unlikelihood she should approach the truth, her loyalty would automatically redirect the thought from its destination.

The final decisions of the auction were then announced, Miranda having successfully bid on a several items. Notably, Andrea also won an apparently luxurious food and drink hamper which she caught Emily suppressing a snicker over. Her Mediterranean boyfriend however was much more successful than either of them. He was attributed the weekend holiday in Paris, a sizable yacht and a time share on a villa in some beach resort. Miranda resisted the urge to purse her lips at the frivolity, feeling a tiny hint of a smirk as Nigel shook his head at the man. The phrase 'more money than sense' seemed dryly appropriate.

Every line in her body straightened and remained painfully taught, however, when the young man proclaimed he was taking "Andy" to the city of love, saying loudly that it would be her favourite place in the world once she'd seen it with him. The implication was at once insulting and offensive. It was of little comfort that he obviously had no idea that her ex-assistant had any memories attached to the foreign city, memories that would always belong to Miranda. The editor took a vicious joy in that thought, despite her own memories from the time shared with Andrea in Paris not being completely pleasant.

Seeing Nigel once more shake his head, Miranda felt a little of the tension within her muscles dissolve. Andrea, for her part, handled the declaration with no flinch at all and merely smiled, if somewhat vacantly. The lack of reaction did not help the silver haired woman immunise herself to the thought that this woman, whom she considered well and truly hers, had a steady line of lovers, a few of whom could be found in this room, and all of those people had a claim to Andrea that her ex-boss could not boast. Yet. Miranda waited with as little impatience as she could for the rest of the items to be decided than quickly made her exit for the evening, unwilling to watch the latino fawning a second longer. Her one, miniscule consolation was that Andrea's recent reputation assured her he would not remain fawning for long.

.~*~. .~*~. .~*~. .~*~.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Just playing. I know it. You know it. That's all.

**Summary:** The best way to tame a dragon is to beat it at it's own game. Miranda/Andy

**Struck Down: Part Two**

Andrea Sachs had gone places. It was an incontrovertible fact. Her articles were now practically clamoured for across the printing industry, and their subject matter never failed to disappoint, no matter the audience. It was fresh, original, mind-opening and human. Everything that Andrea herself was. Miranda Priestley had watched from afar, most of the time, as her ex-assistant rose up through the pecking order of several newspapers, until she finally branched out on her own as freelance. She was a spectacular compliment to her previous employers and they all commented whenever they could that she was easily the most talented and lovely person they'd worked with. Everyone except Miranda Priestley. No one dared ask her opinion on the one assistant she'd ever allowed to walk away from her unscathed.

Four months had passed after the auction, during which Andrea's appearances in the gossip magazines had become further apart, less exposed and the people changed less. Now, there had been a woman whom had lasted for a month, then a man for a week or two, then another man whose presence on a more permanent basis in the young woman's life would be confirmed if he arrived with her at the gala tonight. Nigel wondered if any Runway employee's life would be worth living if that young man appeared tonight with Andy on his arm. There had been a definite growth in temper spurts and drop in patience around the glass corridors after the last event these two women had found themselves at.

Since the gala was not an event that required Miranda to mingle if she did not chose to, Emily was attending but allowed to maintain a certain distance. Almost a free pass to enjoy herself. Nigel thought the redhead definitely deserved it. As usual, Nigel had arrived half an hour before Miranda herself was due, mostly to give Emily a heads up regarding any potential danger or problems with the other guests. He also wanted to find Andy and beg her to at least speak to the silver-haired editor because, really, this was getting far beyond a joke. Have fun, yes, put a metaphorical finger up at the woman who had made her life hell, dangerous, bordering on unacceptable.

Nigel wasn't sure whether to be relieved when he couldn't find the familiar brunette or give in to the worrying, unsettled feeling in his stomach. He knew she was supposed to be here. It was her first event as a freelance writer, as the utter success they'd all known she would become eventually. She would be here. So, Nigel did the not-so-sensible thing, relieving several waiters of several flutes of champagne in quick succession, until he no longer felt the need to bite the inside of his bottom lip until it bled.

Exactly the moment she was expected, Miranda arrived at the front of the building, gliding gracefully out of the car in a midnight blue gown that really was to die for, hugging her hips and flowing around her legs in a flutter that drew the eye, her perfectly styled snowy locks reflecting the moonlight beautifully. The whole effect positively ethereal. All her staff present felt a significant surge of pride at belonging to a magazine run by such an incredibly stunning woman whose mind, they were all sharply aware, was quite the match to her pristine outward display. Nigel flowed inside just in front of her, wanting to check for Andy again, only to still find no sign of her. This was worrying. It was incredibly rare for anyone to arrive later than Miranda.

In a state of hovering anxiety, Nigel tried to ignore the familiar prickling hairs on the back of his neck that were shouting of a coming storm as he watched over Miranda and the rest of the room. A few minutes of this, and he caught a movement on the stairs which led up to the hotel proper from the hall they were gathered in. Gleaming alabaster white against smooth, cunning black, the gait measured and a hand gliding gracefully along the banister beside her as the vision descended. The man knew it was a matter of seconds before half the hall would notice, and possibly another few on top of that before Miranda would turn to see the distraction.

Andrea had outdone herself. And everyone else.

Black was a fairly common colour in an evening like this, perhaps could even be called the standard. And they had seen the brunette in black before – she'd done it justice then. This dress wasn't revealing, or overtly daring, but the message, the challenge it broadcasted to the room at large made it a formidable weapon. This was a completely different level of beauty and Nigel realised with a jolt that the padawan had graduated from his fashion University with so much more than flying colours. The way she moved, the consciousness she carried with her of the eyes that were flowing towards her, all spoke of an awareness that Nigel couldn't remember seeing on her before. A dignity and grace she could only have learnt from one other woman. And all of that succeeded, just as much as the clothing, in drawing everyone towards her with an intent they could not deny.

A black corset formed the top of this dress, covered in subtle patterns of lace, accentuating the curves and lines of the bodice that hugged her torso, curving to her like a second skin in every single possible flattering way. Around her shoulders and apparently attached to the corset was more of the delicate black lace that hugged the very tops of Andrea's arms, but left her shoulders bare, the contrast to the corset delicious in a way even Nigel could appreciate. Her hair was tied back, in the fashionably disordered bun that exposed the back of her shoulders to the light as well, her memorable bangs framing her gorgeous dark eyes, which were gently accented with smoky make up and dark red lips that make you think of wine and blood and heat.

The skirt was shaped, cut just below her left knee and flowed downwards around her right leg and the back of her sumptuous shoes, not too high, the material loose so allowing for a fleeting glimpse of more, beautifully pale skin covered in satin stockings that shone slightly as she moved, which led the observing eyes all the way down to Prada black heels. If ever there was an outfit that could seduce in one look, this had to be it. It was alluring, classic, subtle and wrapped your eyes around the woman wearing it the instant you became aware of her. Nigel actually gulped.

Choosing to be thankful for small wonders, the man noted that Andrea didn't seem to be accompanied by anyone. Nigel internally scoffed at the thought – in that dress, she'd certainly be leaving with someone. It was so much more than devastating. On Andy, it was sex; walking, alive, passionate sex, twirled around a figure to die for. It was of no surprise to anyone that half the room seemed to surge towards the stairs as Andrea reached the level of the hall. The more Nigel considered it, the more he knew tonight would be a resolution for the women in his life, one way or another. Andy had thrown her gauntlet quite literally in Miranda's face, without a care, by arriving after her – which no one in publishing did if they could help it. But Prada heels? The ultimate finishing touch.

With bated breath, he resolved to watch and wait for the thunder and lightening.

Miranda had noticed the movement on the stairs, but quite unlike her usual presence of mind, she had dismissed such an action as someone making a quick entrance so as not to attract attention. Nobody arrived after her, no one dared. After she saw heads begin to sway, the editor turned again and it took every single string of her considerable self control not to gasp, or move, or anything at all really. She could not resist the pull of her eyes as the electric blue gaze traced every single inch of not just the garment sheathing her ex-assistant but the body beneath as well. With each second that passed, a little more of her ironclad grip, a few more threads of her self control, disappeared.

If she had been able to concentrate her considerable thought power and processes on anything except Andrea, she would have felt a significant, rather large shift taking place within herself. Something she would not be able to recover or reconsider. Something monumental.

After several seemingly eternal seconds, Miranda's examination finally reached the Prada heels and felt the snap of realisation. This was for her. This was all for her. It always had been. Wrenching her eyes away, Miranda forced herself to turn so the young woman who had so enchanted the hall around her was not in her line of sight. She seemed to be one of the few who could. Her eyes glittered dangerously as she appreciated, even in that situation, the irony. Fashion, designers, clothing, publicity, the press – the entirety of that world was her weapon, her domain, and Andrea had used it against her with the skill worthy of Miranda herself. The message was clear, the defiance an invitation, and Miranda refused to flinch, had no inclination to do anything but attack with everything she had.

Even as the battle line was drawn, Miranda took a moment to internally give a nod to her opponent. The editor had underestimated Andrea Sachs. It would not happen again.

Unfortunately, there was still business to attend to within the gathering – Runway required her attention for the guests, at least for some short amount of time to secure a few more investors, sweeten the right pockets, and all the other political messiness that was necessary when publishing became such a big success. Nevertheless, Miranda kept a close watch on the woman who had garnered her attention in a way no one else ever had. To her rising fury, she endured that pretty face being directed with very pleasing smiles at several, overly interested parties, the intent merely to enjoy the attention but even that was enough.

Carefully controlled breathing became the order of her time, pacing out the seconds as she waited for Andrea's eyes to find hers while trying to adopt her usual calm, gentle persona that was required for these events. Another quarter of an hour, the girl had yet to direct her gaze anywhere near Miranda and the editor's thin patience was nearing its most frayed end. With a flash of something that felt suspiciously like relief, she caught sight of Nigel over to her left and called him to her with the smallest of gestures. Once there was a break in her conversation, she turned and lifted her shoulder as she made to greet someone else, to hide her mouth from any possible observer.

"Bring me Andrea. Now." There was no mistaking the bite of that command, and though Nigel's eyes widened considerably as he grasped the meaning, he slid away quickly enough to sooth her urge to let him have the even sharper end of her tongue. Manoeuvring without seeming to do so, she watched her long time colleague make his way towards the brunette and finally catch her attention, leaning close and pulling her gently away from the conversation she'd been engrossed in, muttering something in her ear. Miranda had to tighten her jaw as she saw a smirk flutter across the younger woman's full lips at whatever Nigel had shared. Soon enough, the man in front of her was going to realise her attention was barely with him and the editor could not even bring herself to care as Andrea drew closer.

Then some woman with wild, blonde curls and a grass green dress grabbed Andy's arm, obviously a friend and comfortable with the other young woman as they embraced and began to chat. Nigel was still hovering close, but clearly could not find another way to interrupt the new conversation and shot her a worried glance. A slight flick of the brunette head and an answering intimate smile from the unknown woman was quite obviously another conquest paying homage. And so, the last shred of restraint Miranda had been clasping inside her unravelled and she'd begun to move in Andrea's direction before consciously making the decision. The ice in her eyes ensured the crowd parted like the Red Sea before her, until she reached her target.

Nigel, to his credit, tried to do the honourable thing and stepped in front of Andrea, whose back was to her, still engrossed in flirting with whoever the vacant upstart of a woman was this time. One sharp glance through Nigel's glasses and he reluctantly stepped to the side, drawing Andy around to face her. The irritating young woman did not even seem surprised to see her suddenly before her, merely offered the editor a careful smile and then took two flutes from the waiter who had paused nearby, clearly hoping to hear something he could increase his income with. Miranda directed a swift glare that had the physicality of a whip at the minor irritation, watching with an internal smirk as he scurried away.

Andrea apparently found the moment amusing also, if the tips of her mouth itching upwards were any indication as she handed over the spare drink. With a gentle tip of her head, she offered to lead the way and Miranda pursed her lips but failed to resist in a manner she might usually have found within her, which she was aware would be taken as ascent. Andrea slipped in front of her and threaded her way in-between the crowd, in the direction of a small door.

Miranda's previous cutting so directly through this swarm of people had attracted a little attention but that had faded now with the lack of immediate fireworks. Emily had purposefully refocused her attention elsewhere in order not to get drawn in to anything that might affect her work. The only person watching them as they moved now was Nigel, and he was following them at a discrete distance – no doubt to make sure nothing untoward happened. Miranda wondered what he would consider untoward, and how much Andrea had revealed to him of her little step into the editor's world. She did not let herself consider the direction their actions might take once they were alone – she would not tempt herself until she was sure.

The little door appeared to lead to a small area of patio, at the edge of the hotel gardens. Miranda softly pushed it closed behind her, while watching Andrea take a deep breath. The figure wrapped in black was facing away from her, out towards the grass and trees, one arm bent over her stomach, grasping her other elbow, while the other hand held the champagne at chin level. Taking one step forward, the editor's eyes caressed across the skin of the young woman's back and shoulders, taking in the detail of the lace that she'd been unable to appreciate from their previous distance, before she bent slightly to leave her glass just in front of the door, a warning system in case someone attempted to surprise them.

"You've been playing quite the game, Andrea." Miranda finally spoke, her voice cold but lacking the fierce disdain that should have underscored the words. The brunette seemed to realise this and a little of the tension seeped from her neck muscles.

"I wouldn't call it a game." Was the quiet, calm reply before a sip of her drink was taken. Miranda took another step forward, face tipped to regard everything she could of the woman before her, watching for the crack in the armour she found herself admiring the craftsmanship of. A memory of the un-styled, slightly scruffy, earnest and indignant young woman turning back to face her, ire in her voice as she reproached Miranda for judging her, even as she passed that same judgement on everything around her flitted across Miranda's mind and she wondered if she should mourn the loss of that naivety before deciding the creature that stood so easily before her now was too precious to rend in defence of a innocence lost.

"Indeed. What would you call it, then?" The editor brought her iron will to bear on those words, striving for the lack of anything but anger that she usually accomplished.

"A play. A theatre production." Andrea answered, followed by another sip from the flute in her hand.

"Are you calling me a puppet, Andrea?" Finally, a little of her brittle edge was there.

"No. You were the audience." The reply was quiet but not evasively so and the change in tense was just pointed enough. The act was over, the actress waiting for a reaction. Miranda trailed her eyes up the line of the brunette's spine, wondering at how the moonlight flowed off her.

"Such an in-depth performance." There was a hint of accusation swimming in that tone.

"It worked." Andrea said and Miranda could hear the faint smile in her voice.

"I allowed it to work." The older woman corrected, sending a sharp glare at the back of the pretty head. A warning she knew the little hairs on the back of the neck would pass along.

"From the darkness in your eyes when you looked at Megan just now, I have trouble believing that." Came the wry comment in return, and the enviable champagne glass was placed lightly on the floor a little way from the Prada-clad feet. Miranda drew a long breath in through her nose, determined to give no auditory indication of the battle which had waged through her body just minutes ago.

"You may delude yourself in any way you see fit, Andrea, but do not expect me to share in your fantasy." Miranda replied, her voice suitably cold.

"Miranda, the minute I showed a sign of disobeying your summons, you cut across half the room, without speaking to anyone, before you got to me. As far as I remember, that is not your M.O. at these events." Miranda was mildly surprised to hear only a mere lilt of smugness in the young woman's voice. The editor did not have a denial, because it was useless, nor a diversion because it would be obvious, so she opted for silence, waiting for anything more she could use. "Miranda, you came to claim me. What are you still doing two feet away? I've never known you to hesita-" At that moment, any breath left in the brunette fled her in a sharp gasp as a perfectly shaped set of teeth pressed lightly against the flesh between Andrea's neck and shoulder. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but to make a point.

At the same time, Miranda's arms slid around to grasp the fabric at the front of the corset, fingertips revelling in the fabric even as they yearned for the skin beneath. Andrea's head tipped away from the silver hair but found rest on a smooth shoulder, exposing even more skin to the hungry mouth of the woman behind her. Miranda had exchanged her teeth for her lips, remembering they would have to return to all those maddening people at some point soon. Nigel would only be able to guarantee privacy for so long and Miranda was determined to make the most of it. Brushing the tip of her nose lightly up an elegant tendon in Andrea's neck, pausing when the action drew a shiver, smirking as she breathed over the skin and the young woman actually moaned. Low and deep in her throat, but Miranda felt it.

With a flicker of surprise, the older woman registered an arm that had been hanging limply at Andrea's side lift and curl to take possession of one of her hands from the corset and bring it to Andrea's mouth, gorgeously full lips pressing a kiss to each of the fingers before peppering the palm with butterfly kisses. Miranda could do nothing about the frantic increase in her breathing rate that the action caused. Determined to press her advantage, she tucked her body closer into Andrea's back and brushed her fingertips up and up a wire she'd located in the corset, before finally reaching satin skin, using her nails to lightly catch the soft surface and under her touch, the chest heaved as much as it was able.

"Miranda..." Andrea murmured, her breath tickling the edges of silver hair hovering close by and they both shivered together.

"Andrea." The older woman was no longer surprised to find her voice was a husky whisper as her hand rose, trailing up Andrea's collarbone and cupping her chin lightly. Gently, Miranda tilted the brunette's mouth towards her own and, after flicking her gaze over the moonlit face, registering the already closed eyes and barely parted lips, her hunger began to bleed into feeling. A second was used to admire the beautiful sight of her Andrea waiting for her, willing and anticipating, before Miranda closed the gap and brushed her lips over the delectable almond shaped mouth she'd spent so long admiring. Before she had chance to draw back, the other woman returned the gesture and pressed deeper into the contact, drawing them both into a surer, more dangerous kiss.

The hand Miranda had left at Andrea's jaw now clutched demandingly around the back of the younger woman's neck, fingertips threading into the dark hair, nails almost scratching at the scalp beneath as their mouths slid against each other, the angle constantly changing. Their noses brushing slightly which caused a reflexive smile to tug at Andy's mouth that Miranda kissed along before they both tilted their heads in opposite directions and opened their mouths to each other. The blood was beginning to pound in Miranda's ears as fluid tongues slid against each other, the fight well and truly joined. Andrea's hand still clasped Miranda's other, fingers having clenched together and entwined as much as possible and was now pressed against the upper edge of the corset.

There was no doubt in either mind. There would be no more waiting. Tonight was theirs.

Miranda's lungs were beginning to burn when Andrea's mouth wandering away from hers and kissed its way along her lower jaw towards her ear, the sounds of their ragged gasps for oxygen harsh against the quiet of their surroundings. Miranda brushed the thumb which had been resting on the soft skin behind Andrea's ear underneath the small silver droplet and flicked the earlobe playfully, hearing the faint tinkle of metal from the earring.

The fingers clasping hers tightened a fraction as a wonderfully plump mouth blew lightly across Miranda's own ear. Another shiver passed through them both and Miranda felt the young woman's smile as she nudged her nose into silver hair and brushed a kiss to the hairline. Miranda then felt, with a quiver of shock, Andrea's free hand which had been warming her side, glide into the heavy weight of her coiffed bob on the other side of Andy's ministrations, combing through the strands carefully in a movement that should not have been as erotic as it was.

Just then, a knock faintly echoed across to them, from the door they'd forgotten was behind them and both women sighed, frustration and want equal in the sound.

"That will be Nigel." Miranda murmured, lifting her eyelids with some difficulty and meeting the glorious darkness of Andrea's gaze while simultaneously missing that mouth on her skin.

"Time to make ourselves scarce." Andrea whispered back with noticeable breathlessness, the hand in Miranda's hair falling away but the one holding hers still joined as it headed for the young woman's waist.

"Meet me at the townhouse?" Miranda said as much as offered, her fingers falling from Andrea's neck but brushing the brunette's bare upper chest on the way down. The sharp little noise that issued, involuntarily, from the young woman was delightful to Miranda and she smiled in response as Andy tried to reply.

"No need. Room 607. The hotel was hoping for some publicity, I think." There was a hint of pride at the fact she'd been offered a complimentary room and Miranda recognised what the gesture implied to Andrea. It was a compliment to her stature and influence among the publishing world and Miranda found herself whole-heartedly approving.

"I will be there as quickly as I can." Was her crisp reply, her eyes conveying just how much she wished they could have vanished to the seclusion the room would provide instantly. Andrea leant over and pressed a firm kiss to Miranda's pliant lips, a promise of more to come and an urging to hurry, before she drew away and turned around, their hands still entwined as the young woman collected her glass from the floor and then they moved together back towards the hall door.

Both took a moment to run free, swift fingers across their faces, checking makeup and hair and straightening possible wrinkles in fabric. The editor wasn't worried about the continued holding of Andrea's hand, she knew the touch was a reassurance for both of them and would be separated as soon as the door was opened. In a swift motion, the brunette had also gathered up Miranda's flute and passed it back to her. With a hand that expertly protected the crystal from harm on the door handle, Andrea looked back and squeezed the fingers between her own, before they slipped apart and she stepped into the hall, leaving the slightly flushed older woman behind.

After a few seconds to reassert the icy burn in her eyes and her fake smile, Miranda followed, eyes darting everywhere to assess how quickly she could leave. Nigel immediately stepped up beside her, an abominably knowing smile all over his face, glances being thrown her way, none of which she returned. Miranda found Andrea making her way through the crowd towards a more subtle entrance to the hotel proper than she had used earlier and felt a sharp thrill of longing strike along her spine, wishing she could leave immediately.

After catching the direction of Miranda's gaze and seemingly knowing the emotions that had to be feeding it, Nigel shifted a step closer and inclined his head, so no one would overhear his soft words.

"Go. I'll do what needs to be done. Go." It wasn't a directive, it was an offer – one Miranda could not withhold from accepting. Giving her friend a small nod of thanks, the editor began a deceptively calm pace through the room, towards the same door Andrea had just slipped through. After a few brief instructions to Emily to dismiss her driver and end her duties for the evening that she was sure confused the redhead quite thoroughly, Miranda herself slipped quietly out of the hall.

Her first thought was for the elevator, her expression slipping from the Dragon Lady norm to that of a passionate, needful woman as she glanced around her. With a smile that quickly morphed into a smirk, she caught site of Andrea waiting by the doors that would take them up to the complimentary suite and the editor moved swiftly to join her. The young woman's wide eyes glowed with innumerable emotions, her arms tucked against her stomach and Miranda knew it was to curtail the instinct to reach out while others had a chance of catching them. Miranda also knew she wasn't exactly being helpful – her gaze burned with need as she swept Andrea up and down.

Thankfully, the elevator arrived promptly and they both stepped inside the small box with a casual attempt at normalcy, Andrea reaching out to push the button for their floor, Miranda checking the corners of the car for security cameras as the doors slid closed. In an instant, Miranda felt herself pulled backwards against the back of the elevator and Andrea stepped in front of her in a smooth motion, her mouth resuming its previous exploration of the skin behind her ear, a light impression of teeth pressed against a tense muscle near the back of the neck while Andy's body pressed impossibly close to her.

Miranda struggled to maintain her senses as Andrea found the spot everyone had somewhere that released a rush of endorphins and other pleasant things into the blood stream and sucked on it – hard. Her breathing already reduced to short gasps and a semi-regular panting, Miranda slid her arms around the bottom of the corset and cupped Andrea possessively as her head fell back against the metal wall, sincerely hoping no one called the lift before they reached their floor. Andrea's light fingers fanned out, from her shoulders, and slid down her bare arms, threading her fingers through Miranda's before lifting them and pressing them either side of the silver hair, a faint growl issuing from the brunette as she nipped as the edge of a shoulder blade, drawing a low moan from Miranda.

Just then, the elevator pinged to signal they were at a floor, and both separated rapidly to check which floor. Thankfully, it was theirs and as the door slid open to an empty corridor, they both reached out and clasped the other's fingers in one hand while Andrea located her card key from her purse. The door for 607 was close by and Miranda kept her senses tuned on the rest of the corridor while Andrea opened the door and led them both inside. Miranda nudged the door closed with her heel while Andy's purse was flung on a nearby chair. Then the brunette was pressing the older woman back into the door, hands grasping hips to hold the editor in place as Andrea captured Miranda's mouth.

Both were lost to the sensation, new as it still felt, for more time than either realised, Miranda's fingers curling into the lace around the back of Andrea's upper arms, heads constantly switching from one side to the other, each change a different, wonderful surprise. Andy sucked lightly on Miranda's upper lip for a moment before the favour was returned on her bottom lip, and then mouths were nudged open even further. Miranda wasn't even aware that her nails were digging sharply into Andrea's skin until the young woman retaliated by pressing her thumbs into a hollow in the older woman's pelvis that she hadn't know was there but almost like a button, making both her knees fold. It seemed Andy was ready for it, as she immediately pressed closer to hold Miranda upright and hooked her hands around the midnight blue clothed ribs.

"That was... dangerous..." Miranda finally managed to breathe out as their mouths parted, and she leant on the door behind her with more weight than she'd like.

"Isn't everything we're doing right now dangerous?" Andy returned softly, with an experienced smile she hadn't had two years ago. Miranda licked her lips, the sudden flood of heat into her entire body driving any possible response from her. Instead, the blue eyes were closed and a deep breath was taken, her grip on Andy's arms loosening to slide around the back of the young woman's shoulders, holding her close.

"How did you know exactly what to say to push me?" Miranda finally managed to ask, because she just couldn't fathom how Andrea understood where so many had failed. With a hitch in her already wavering breath, she felt Andy nuzzle her neck before dragging her lips up and whispering in Miranda's ear.

"I didn't push you. I gave you the incentive. You took the last step on your own, which you had to, if this was going to..." The rest of the sentence was lost in a moan as Miranda finally took a little initiative and shifted her thigh forward slightly to press directly between her young lover's legs.

"How did you know?" Miranda repeated determinedly, with a soft smile at the puff of air released into her hair as Andrea leant her cheek on the older woman's shoulder with a tiny gasp.

"I didn't. I almost called your bluff." There were definite signs of Andrea's legs wobbling, so Miranda took pity and withdrew just far enough to allow coherent thought back to the brunette. Apparently, that had been too generous, because Andrea was now officially on the attack for the little stunt and nudged her entire leg between Miranda's and leant the length of her whole, luxuriously long body against the older woman.

"Bluff?" Miranda could not quite think straight and yet, couldn't bring herself to retaliate.

"About still being in complete control. I almost pointed to the door and offered for you to leave, if you could." Andrea spoke in a lover's whisper, her lips brushing the outer shell of Miranda's ear, her thumbs brushing across the abdomen covered by midnight blue fabric, the tips of her nails painfully close to the underside of Miranda's breasts.

"I wouldn't have left." That was almost too honest, but what choice did she have just then?

"I know. But you would have pouted." Andrea gave a light chuckle, the shake applying a very special pressure to everywhere it mattered on Miranda's body.

"I do not pout." It was supposed to be firm, but it came out gasped, in three different breaths, and Andy chuckled again, making Miranda shudder with need. The upper half of the young woman's body leant back slightly and the left hand that had been teasing her stomach became one impossibly light finger, trailing ice across Miranda's navel and up, between her breasts, not pausing at either and the older woman could not hold back a groan of frustration. The single fingertip became four as it reached Miranda's bare neck and then curled around the back of it, holding her in place. Before her eyelids had time to flicker open, Andrea's hot mouth was surrounding hers again and they were exchanging a frenzied hurry of kisses and nips that left both dizzy.

Miranda's arms clutched around Andy's neck, holding her close as kisses were dealt back and forth at a pace that would have shocked the older woman not two hours ago. As such, she didn't notice Andrea's hand slipping behind her, locating the zip, undoing the tiny hook at the top and gradually sliding down the runner to allow the fabric to fall lose. The brunette's body was holding the dress up now, along with the sleeves, and Miranda became aware of this when an inquisitive hand slipped down her bare spine, counting the vertebrae. Her own hands had not been idle either and as Andrea took an excruciatingly slow step back, gently tugging the sleeves down Miranda's arms and eventually off her skin completely, the beautiful, shining brunette locks were falling down around Andy's ears.

The admiration of that veritable curtain of dark hair distracted Miranda from the intense perusal Andrea's eyes had engaged in as the dress fell into a puddle around her tall heels. Until the younger woman spoke.

"Oh, you sexy thing." The admiration and awe, twisted with amusement, brought Miranda back to her predicament and her focus returned to Andrea's face, the dark eyes still otherwise engaged with her lower body. The lingerie was the same colour as her dress, a fairly thin bra of midnight lace that she'd loved on site, her thigh-highs providing much more cover than anything further up. The older woman arched an eyebrow and waited for Andy to look back up at her, the lack of colour in the irises indication enough of just how deeply the young woman desired her. However...

"Thin-" Miranda tried to begin with a reprimand, almost as averse to that word as 'stuff' but Andrea had already swallowed the rest of her voice, and before Miranda could ever think of returned the favour of removing clothing, nimble fingers had found her covered breast, the nipple peaked beneath the fabric in readiness and at the touch, tightened painfully until Miranda simply could not think. Andrea's focus seemed to have shifted from admiring to possessing, right then and there, and Miranda could not fight. She could now feel the fabric of Andrea's dress against her inner thighs, the sensation driving her fairly wild and the infuriating woman seemed to know it as she pressed smirk after smirk to Miranda's shoulder, a light nip here and there making sure Miranda was concentrating on every single point of contact between Andrea and herself.

Instead of transferring her hand to the other breast, Andrea slid her fingers down, gliding over the smooth skin like a figure skater over ice, tracing imaginary patterns with the tip of her nails, preferring to rub her corset-covered chest against the other breast, and despite her bra still being in place, Miranda had to clench her jaw to stop the word she never, ever used. After a tortuous minute of gliding just above her panty line, those delicate fingers finally hooked in the elastic and slid it down just enough to give them unrestricted access to Miranda's true ecstasy. Neither woman registered as the slip of fabric joined the dress on the floor. Unable to control herself much longer, Miranda let her head fall forward and sank her teeth into Andrea's shoulder, willing those fingers to where she desperately needed them.

With a kiss to the side of her neck, the young woman flexed her fingers against Miranda's entrance and the mouth around her shoulder released something close to a whimper. Ever so slowly, one finger slipped between the folds and Miranda could not stop her hips bucking towards the touch wantonly, encouraging. Another long finger was added and began to move slowly and Miranda bit down a little harder, a hiss sneaking up her throat as her body began to match the strokes. Then Andrea's thumb glanced over her clit and she moaned, her last vestiges of control finally having left her as she laved the shoulder she'd injured and leant her head against Andrea's.

"Please, Andrea." The pace increased at last, Miranda's body matching it as a light touch was again applied to her bundle of very specific nerves, pressing, brushing, stroking as those fingers moved deeper inside of her with each thrust now. Miranda could feel herself trembling but Andrea had a firm hold around her now, leaning them both against the door while keeping them pressed together, light kisses being breathed across her upper chest as she got achingly close to the edge. With one last deep push, Andrea curled her fingers sharply and Miranda cried out, tension exploding from her body as the euphoria spread through her muscles, clouding her vision, lodging her breath in the back of her throat as she choked out nonsense, mind whirling, every inch of her quaking.

The aftershocks were still fluttering through her system when Miranda managed to take a deep breath and loosen her hold around the back of Andrea's shoulders that she could not remember clutching in the first place. With heavy eyelids, she leant away from the bewitching body and found the beautiful face, a smile that was all hers gracing the wide mouth. Without a word, she pulled Andrea into a deep kiss, feeling her knees finally ready to take her weight again and she straightened herself into the deep point of contact, need for the other woman driving her.

Andrea then began to move backward into the suite, drawing Miranda with her, the kiss transforming from a gentle, deep glow of a movement into a fiery, strong pull. Andrea's hands had now both fallen to Miranda's breasts, palming them both, thumbs brushing back and forth across the nipple she could obviously feel beneath, a low growl issuing from the younger woman again and Miranda felt the effect of the sound over every inch of her. She had to have Andrea. Now.

With a sharp push, she sent the slight woman tipping back to land against a convenient writing desk, that dress rippling around her, giving Miranda's need a sharp yank as her eyes took in the figure waiting for her, somewhat sprawled against the desk, eyes reaching out to the older woman, throat convulsing as Andrea battled her own desperation. There was still no brown to be found in those eyes, and Miranda watched each limb twitch, as if resisting the urge to reach out and pull her closer. Miranda took one step, then another, the heels still on her feet as she prowled towards the younger woman, gaze levelled at Andrea's face, communicating all her desire and want through the most eloquent feature she possessed – her eyes.

"Miranda... I need you..." Andy whispered, her voice rough and the older woman closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, her hands clamping around Andrea's upper thighs, digging into the material, pulling it upwards as gently as she was able while swirling her tongue around Andrea's mouth. The brunette shivered forcefully, her hands sliding up into Miranda's hair and running through it in a more demanding motion than earlier but still utterly erotic. Soon enough, Andrea was uncovered from the waist down, aside from another ruined piece of silk that Miranda dispensed with as if it was tissue before hooking her hands behind Andrea and pushing forward.

The young woman took the hint and hopped up on the desk, her skirt bunched around her stomach, Miranda's toned abdomen pressing against her in a way that made her squirm dreadfully. Miranda smiled into their joining of mouths, running the tip of her tongue along the roof of Andrea's mouth and feeling her jump in response. Her fingers had landed on Andy's bare thighs after she'd found a perch on the desk and she began to trace circles with the tips of her manicured nails onto the silky skin, feeling the muscles beneath her touch twitch and Andrea began to moan. Slowly and gently breaking away from the young woman's mouth, Miranda found the hollow above Andrea's clavicle and nipped along its length before brushing kisses back along, under a chin and along the other shoulder, laving the mark she'd left again.

As she did this, her right hand began to inch closer and closer to the apex of her lover's thighs, still drawing tiny circles but shifting them across the skin and she could feel Andrea's hips begin to buck as she reached the edge of the neatly trimmed hairs surrounding the jewel she wanted. Gently, she drew her fingertips up and down the slit, feeling the quiver in the young woman's entire frame as she touched her, and Andy moaned desperately. Lightly, she flicked her index finger against Andrea's clit, causing a wave to pass through the woman under her touch, before sliding two fingers together inside the opening that was more than ready for her to a glorious sigh blooming in her ear.

Quickly, Miranda found a rhythm that made Andrea bite her bottom lip and tip her head back, her throat echoing sounds of pleasure and need at the same time. Miranda couldn't have predicted how much she would enjoy watching her Andrea in such a state, unfettered and shaking with abandon as Miranda rocked her hand in and out, loving the smooth motion and how close she knew her lover already was. Bending, Miranda found the bundle of nerves she'd been neglecting and fastened her lips around it, sucking lightly. The result was immediate – she felt Andrea's walls spasm around her fingers and a shout seemed to involuntarily spill from the mouth she could not see, the arms holding the young woman up faltering as she was swept up by consuming sensations of elation.

Gliding back up, Miranda brushed her fingers across Andrea's cheek, still stroking her lover through her wave as the blood began to settle. After several long, deep breathes, Andy looked up and met her eyes, the dark orbs still glassy but shining with happiness. Miranda smiled back, slipping her hand from the warmth, leaning over to kiss Andrea again. The young woman pushed herself off the desk and wrapped her arms around Miranda's shoulders, holding them in that languid kiss, so much being said without needing to be voiced. It took some time before either was ready to put even a little distance between them again.

Eventually, Andrea moved to kiss the corner of Miranda's mouth and then nuzzle the underside of her jaw, before whispering with a hint of mischief in her voice,

"There's a perfectly good bed in the next room. Seems a shame to waste it." Miranda laughed then, a full bodied wonderful sound that she had forgotten she could make, and Andrea smiled against her neck. One of Miranda's hands found Andrea's and their fingers entwined before they stepped slightly apart and headed in the direction of the bedroom, Miranda leaving her heels behind as she went, not trusting her balance on the increased, perilous height. Her legs and arms, along with several other places, were still a little tremulous, both from her own euphoria against the door and from watching Andrea come apart under her ministrations, but the steady hold on her hand leant her strength.

Once they were inside the bedroom, Miranda noticed Andrea also seemed to have less control over her limbs than normal and there were several moments when the older woman could see trembling. Once more, the editor shut the door to the master bedroom, having lost hold of Andrea's hand when the young woman moved across to the nightstand to remove her earrings and step out of the Prada pumps that had been the light switch for everything this evening. For a moment, it was a pleasure to watched Andrea, still clad in that beautifully fitting and seductive dress, start to unravel the image that she'd presented to those people at the gala downstairs. It felt startlingly familiar.

With a grace she knew would be appreciated, she practically prowled towards the younger woman, and the slight fumble of Andrea's fingers was down to more than post-coital haze, Miranda knew. Coming to stand behind her lover, Miranda took in the fastenings that held the corseted dress and smiled as she took in the exquisite needlework and overall design. Then she reached out, gently, to the knot at the bottom of the crisscrossed lace, undoing the firm tie and pulling the soft binding free from the first two eyeholes. She heard the hitch in Andrea's breathing as she felt the movement and the faint graze of Miranda's knuckles as she continued to remove the laces.

"I would never have had the patience to take this off before I had you just now." Miranda smirked, fingers still working as she leant over and brushed a light kiss to the young woman's shoulder blade. She felt the very involuntary shudder of delight that went through Andrea as the words flowed into her. "Considering what you had planned for tonight, was this the best choice?" Miranda enquired with another, more intimate smirk, knowing she wouldn't take back the sight of Andrea in this dress for anything.

"Considering the way you're enjoying taking it off, I'm inclined to say yes." Miranda chuckled at that, no longer surprised that Andrea somehow knew exactly all the very specific things the corset had been and was doing to her. Then a thought occurred from the young woman's words, a subtler meaning that was in the editor's level of understanding. The corset forced Miranda to take her time, to think about what she was doing, so there would be no going back once it was over. No denial that she hadn't wanted what they were about to do just as much as Andrea. A smile curled her lips upwards and she paused in her mission to remove the restrictive clothing to wrap her arms around the slim waist, tucking her nose under Andrea's jaw.

"I would have enjoyed taking anything off you, my darling." Nuzzling the skin by her cheek, Miranda drew away again and resumed the act of undressing her lover, feeling a warmth spread outward through her as she watched the edge of a brilliant smile light up the young woman in front of her. "You do realise, of course, that you are never wearing this again. The entire hall was salivating in the manner of very rabid dogs by the time you actually got to the bottom of the stairs." Miranda had regained her Dragon Lady voice in an effort to pull the conversation in a more teasing direction, although there was a heavy tone of protectiveness that she would never have allowed at work.

"Are you including yourself in that assessment?" Andrea queried with a cheeky smile that she shot in the older woman's direction over her shoulder. Snorting in her usual, dismissive manner, Miranda finally pulled away the laces and unwrapped the corset from her lover's body in a manner that couldn't help but communicate how much she appreciated the view. Andrea slipped her arms from the lace sleeves very carefully and Miranda slid the entire creation down her legs, thankful when Andy stepped from the material and allowed her to toss it gently on the floor a little way from them. Then Andrea turned to face her, eyes glowing as she took in Miranda's mussed hair, swelling lips, brassiere in slight disarray, legs still clad in thigh highs without heels, no panties, and her expression said how sumptuous she found the sight. The young woman's words from earlier, "Oh, you sexy thing." echoed in her mind and Miranda couldn't believe the hint of pink that suffused the tops of her cheeks.

Kneeling, Andy rolled the silk down her lover's legs and Miranda tipped her head back with a definite shortness of breath as she felt warm breath caress her inner thigh, no doubt by intent. The other piece of hosiery joined its partner on the floor and Andrea gently grazed her touch up the outside of Miranda's leg before standing and reaching behind to remove the rest of the midnight blue delicate fabric at last. Miranda used the opportunity to glide her hands underneath the flimsy camisole that had been under the corset – it was so thin, it was almost sheer, and begged to be removed. When she felt the catch on her bra open, she lifted the top from Andrea's body, raising her arms to tug the top over her head and flicking it on top of the discarded corset-dress, before dropped her own arms to allow the remaining underwear to fall away.

For several moments, they stood before each other, Miranda taking in the breathtaking view she couldn't believe she'd been denied all evening while feeling Andrea's eyes rake across her chest, her expression at once rejoicing and hungry. Then as one, they crashed together, hands grasping at the other's skin while their chests pressed against each other in an utterly delicious manner. Their mouths meshed together, opening almost immediately as they sought to close every inch space between them. Miranda felt a hand that had been kneading her shoulder slide around her neck, holding her mouth to Andy's as the younger woman began to shift them towards the bed.

Miranda traced lines up and down either side of her lover's spine, seemingly counting ribs as they edged back until a soft thud indicated Andrea's legs had come into contact with the side of the mattress and they both eased the speed of their movements, withdrawing from the other's mouth. The older woman slid her hand along one of the brunette's arms and found her fingers, curling hers around them as she drew the other woman's palm up and kissed the back of it, gently but deeply, closing her eyes into the touch. The gesture spoke so much more than Miranda could and Andrea joined their other hands, lifting her leg onto the soft sheets and sliding onto the bed with a grace that was utterly ruinous to Miranda's control.

Without a second of hesitation, Miranda followed her lover onto the mattress, loving the softness of Andrea's skin and the silk sheets beneath her. Together, they stretched out, bodies at their full length and tucked against the other person, Andrea on her back, Miranda on her side, legs flung over each other as they revelled in the full body contact. Miranda sensed that her lover was willing to slow down for now, wanting to enjoy the moment and take the time to explore and appreciate, and part of her realised Andrea had considered that the older woman would possibly leave before they got to this. Perhaps, if Andrea had not meant quite so much to her, she would have thought about it, intimacy was not something she excelled at, but she could not even contemplate leaving now.

Instead, Miranda began to map out the lithe body now open to her, gently gliding the very lightest touch of a nail up the sensitised skin she'd discovered earlier over the tendon in Andrea's neck, withdrawing the low moan she'd felt earlier, and was delighted when it became apparent the touch was just as effective on the other side of the pale column. Miranda also traced lines of muscle and circled freckles as she wandered along an arm, a shoulder, around a breast, tweaking the peak gently but not remaining because the aim of this was not flash-fire, across a stomach, marvelling at how beautiful Andrea was, and how this young woman was now hers, as much as Miranda now belonged to Andrea.

The brunette had her eyes closed, her expression one of divine contentment as she concentrated, no doubt, on Miranda's touch, and one of the smaller feet near Miranda's ankle began to glide up and down the back of her calf while one hand was stroking ever so lightly up and down the outside of Miranda's elegant bicep. This leisurely exploration of each other continued for some time, both absorbed in the sensations flooding their consciousness.

After a while, Miranda noticed the peaceful expression shift and large, dark eyes fluttered open, curiosity in their glint as they found hers.

"Did you know?" Andrea asked quietly, not pausing the movement of her foot but shifting her position slightly to see more of her lover. Miranda frowned gently, unsure of the question. She'd expected a 'when' and a 'how' and even perhaps a 'why' but not this.

"Did I know what?" Miranda echoed, brushing her lover's bangs back from her eyes to inspect them a little closer.

"About me. When I was working for you." The older woman arched a silver eyebrow, drawing further explanation, thumb brushing gently along the edge of the brunette's jaw. "That I admired you." Andrea finally admitted, reaching up to brush light fingertips along the older woman's collarbone. Miranda tilted her head to graze against the hand touching her skin, considering her answer carefully.

"I knew how earnestly you applied yourself. That against your will, you found yourself admiring the things you opened your eyes to see around you at Runway. I knew you made sacrifices to me and your job from your personal life. And I knew there was something remarkable in your eyes on certain occasions when you looked at me. I know you respected me, in a very different way to everyone else. Beyond that, I didn't let myself consider. It would have created too many complications." She wondered whether the honesty would make Andrea withdraw, knowing it wasn't the romantic answer. Instead, Andrea smiled and brushed her fingers through the thick, snowy hairs above Miranda's forehead.

"That's what I thought." The young woman's voice was warm as she replied, pressing a kiss to Miranda's cheek.

"Am I really that predictable?" The editor asked, narrowing her eyes, raising herself slightly away from her lover, withdrawing a slight smirk from Andrea.

"No. It took me months to figure out how your mind worked, even while I was still around you every day, and I'm still not entirely sure I know how it interacts with your heart." Andrea was still smiling, fingers dancing across the elegant forehead, smoothing away the creases and Miranda allowed her expression to relax into a playful look, her eyes glittering.

"Well, I would hate to have all my secrets revealed at once." Miranda replied, knowing the young woman beneath her would understand it was a playful promise that those secrets would be explored in time.

"I don't think ten lifetimes would be enough to reveal all your secrets." Andrea chuckled, fingers curled around the nape of her lover's neck. Miranda leant down to kiss the swollen lips she'd claimed so thoroughly.

"Don't think I haven't noticed you have a fair few things hidden away from plain sight." She finally breathed back, as they parted. Andrea really laughed then, the movement brushing their bare chests together and causing a flare of need to strike both women at the same time.

"Well, neither of us will be bored then, will we?" Was the slightly stumbling reply as both felt their body heat begin to expand from within. Miranda gently nuzzled Andrea's neck as she shook her head minutely.

"Never." Was the almost inaudible promise that flowed into the younger woman's ear as their bodies shifted, Miranda now directly above the other woman's body and her azure gaze darkened considerably in the low lit room. Miranda rested her weight against hands either side of Andrea's head as a thigh slid between the firm legs that had been wrapped around hers just minutes ago. Andy looked up at her with a blazing gaze and lifted her own thigh to brush with a lightness of touch Miranda suddenly decreed in her mind should not be legal. The mischievous smile, and biting of Andrea's lower lip, told the older woman her lover knew exactly what she was thinking.

Shifting her weight, Miranda leant forward and pressed against the apex of Andrea's thighs, the moan that was released from the young woman echoed in her own throat as she felt the telltale moisture from the slick folds slide against her skin. Andy retaliated by reaching up with her mouth and enclosing her plump lips around a tightened peak, flicking her tongue against the skin before suckling hard and Miranda felt the shudder of intense pleasure travel all the way along her body. The tremor reverberated then into Andrea as well, and they both moaned. Slowly, tortuously, Miranda began to rock her thigh into Andrea, making sure to apply a little more pressure gradually, addicted to watching the play of arousal over the young woman's face.

Lower and harder, the thrusts became, and Miranda could feel her own need growing rapidly as she watched Andrea begin to writhe beneath her, the panting lips and tightly closed eyes begging to be released from this exquisite frustration and pale hands clutched into Miranda's shoulders. Then, as if grasping a force of will she'd not known was there, Andrea seemed to force her eyes open and leant upwards to close her lips around the point she'd found earlier that turned Miranda's usually strong limbs into useless muscles, one hand pushing at her shoulder as the leg the same side rolled Miranda onto her back, the young woman following to settle on top of her lover, her thigh now well and truly pressing in exactly the right place.

"We're in this together." Andrea whispered against Miranda's ear, kissing down the older woman's neck and Miranda couldn't help arching up into the contact, blissfully enjoying the press of Andrea's breasts against her own as she bent a knee slightly to find Andrea's moisture again, understanding what the young woman meant. In a moment, Andrea was pressing down onto Miranda's strong thigh as she slid own her against wet heat, a moan once more released from both of them as they surrendered back to the pleasure of the other pressing against them, bringing that cliff of ecstasy racing ever closer.

Somehow, Andy found both of Miranda's hands and locked their fingers together, pressing them down into the mattress at Miranda's head level, her eyes practically feasting as they slid against each other, rocking and grinding into the contact as desperately as they could. The sensations skyrocketed through their nerves, wrapping their brains up in rapidly firing messages of white hot need, want and pleasure. Miranda arched up again, her neck bending backwards, needing the release of the movement as much as the feel of Andy pressed into her. She could feel her lover beginning to shake from the effort of holding back, waiting for Miranda and she struggled to open her eyes, to communicate how close she was as well.

With her last moment of free will, Miranda bucked her hips up, doubling the pressure to both their sexes as they clashed together and her mouth fell open to let loose a shocked cry of release, Andrea's voice joining hers as wave after wave crashed through their systems and fizzled through their entire beings. Their breathing was non-existent for a few seconds as they shouted their combined completion, all their muscles stretched and contorted as they dropped off the cliff.

Andrea collapsed onto Miranda, unable to hold herself up any longer, limbs incapable of holding any more tension, the sensation so very numb after the intensity of their combined release. Miranda wrapped the younger woman in her arms, aftershocks still buzzing under her skin as they cradled closer to each other, sweat making them slick together and easing the friction. Andy was trying to breathe normally against her collarbone and Miranda smiled. Her vision was still a little fuzzy, but she was utterly satiated and too happy too care. Slowly and gently, she ran her fingers through the long brunette locks now fanning over their cooling bodies and let her eyes drift closed, her mouth curled into an unconscious smile.

.~*~. .~*~. .~*~. .~*~.

Andrea stirred slowly into wakefulness, a groan beginning at the back of her throat as she registered the familiar ache in her loins from being fully and properly satisfied. Still not quite ready to open her eyes, even though the room still appeared to be dark, the young woman scrubbed a hand over one side of her face before registering a smell she knew so very well. Miranda's perfume. And something else... something beautiful and musky. Sex. With that, her memories surged forward and a smirk tugged the corners of her mouth right up.

"That would be me you're thinking of, wouldn't it?" Came a soft, silvery voice in her ear and she felt the mattress shift as Miranda leant over to brush her lips over Andy's temple.

"Most definitely." Andrea grinned, her eyes fluttering open and she rolled her neck around to take in the sight of a thoroughly sex-ed up Miranda Priestley. Her silver hair was all over the place, there were a couple of dark marks on her neck and her mouth was swollen in the most delicious way. The older woman was leant against the headboard, sheet tucked around her chest to keep the cold off and Andy rolled over so she could face the beauty without having to sit up as well.

"What time is it?" She asked, wondering whether it would soon be time to leave the hotel room and face their relationship's realities in the light of day. Much as Andrea was determined to make this work, she did love how simple things were just then, both women mussed and uncaring of how they looked, wrapped in silk sheets and glowing. This is what she had missed in the last few months.

Andy wasn't going to lie – there had been quite a lot of sex during her time in the gossip columns, mainly with the women but a few men along the way. And it had been fun – running wild wasn't something she'd ever done and it had felt good to let go a little, after the distraction and dedication her work had required. But the people she'd associated with were using her, just as much as she was using them – it was almost an arrangement, between Andy and all these people. She'd not wanted to hurt anyone, so had found people with aims that were not dissimilar to her own. She had not forgotten anything of her own, good intentions, had just quietened them in order to achieve the one thing she'd discovered she wanted above anything and would not have gotten any other way.

Of course, a few over the months of articles and photographs had been friends that the press tarred with the same brush as the others – Doug for example had needed Andy to explain to his boyfriend at the time why the gossip rags were calling him Andy's newest beau. Some had been men who needed her for cover and she'd been happy to oblige. Some, like Lily, had just wanted a little attention and Andy had been more than willing to give that away – it didn't matter that she and Lily were only ever good friends, to be seen on Andy's arm had become a red flag and the publicity for the gallery had been wonderfully helpful.

But this. Tonight, with Miranda. It was so much more – making love in an explosive way Andrea had never felt in her life. The intimacy was astonishing and wonderful, and Andy revelled in it. This connection, this power they experienced with each other, it was unique and would always be just theirs. And part of her had known that this was how it would be. That's partly why she wanted their first night to be here, in a bed neither had shared with anyone else, to only have memories of each other.

"It's quite early, I think. Sometime around three." Andy groaned again at that – it was Sunday, was there even such a thing as three in the morning on a Sunday? She felt Miranda brush the backs of her fingers against her cheek and opened her eyes again, knowing that if Miranda wanted her attention, she would give it, no matter what the time. When Andy saw the warmth in the cobalt eyes that were looking down at her, she smiled and took possession of the hand that had touched her, pressing a kiss to the back of it before shifting herself slightly more upright to resist the pull of the warm sheets.

"Do you need to get home? The girls..." Andrea bit her lip, not having thought about that but Miranda brought the hand she was still holding onto her lap and squeezed lightly.

"They're with their father. They get home late tonight." A momentary quiet fell over both women, both wondering whether Andrea and the girls would get on, wondering how long it would take before she could be introduced at all.

"I want you to know, I'm not going to push you into anything. Not with the girls, not with work. I want to make this work, but I know you have a lot of other priorities as well." Andrea finally said, her smile warm and encouraging but accepting as well hopeful. She reached up to tuck the sheet around her before lightly tracing a line across Miranda's forehead and down her cheekbone, then down her unique nose and along her lips. Andy couldn't help grinning as a kiss was pressed to her fingertips.

"You are a priority also, Andrea." The older woman murmured, smiling back at the brunette with warmth radiating from her almost as strongly as power usually did.

"I'm glad to hear it." Andy replied softly, squeezing their linked hands once more as she shifted back into the pillow behind her, getting comfortable. She heard Miranda sigh and looked up.

"This will be complicated." Andrea heard the regret in those few words, but also the steely edge of determination that told her complicated was a word which should be intimidated by Miranda Priestley.

"I know that." Miranda looked around at her as she spoke, and Andrea made sure to keep her voice even, not wanting to give any reason for the older woman to react badly.

"It will also take a considerable amount of time before it can be public." Ah, practicalities, what Miranda did best, and Andy nodded again, shuffling closer to Miranda so she could lay her head on the bare shoulder that had been a testament to her self control far too many times in the past.

"Yes." Andrea murmured, having already considered that and had winced in private at the thought of everything the press could chose to throw at them.

"You are determined, then?" That was a deceptively light question, and Andrea knew it. Leaning forward, she twisted to face her lover, both hands now taking Miranda's to share in the comfort of having each other so close.

"I would never have entered into this without being sure first. After we had lunch, and you made yourself clear, I did a lot of thinking about what I wanted. This is where I got to." Andy tipped her head between the two of them, her smile growing as she watched Miranda's eyes darken, memories clearly swirling in the older woman's mind from last night. After all, the evidence from their night together, the untidy bed sheets, the ruckus of clothes on the floor both in here and out in the living room, the enchanting smell that swirled around them both was hard to put from the mind.

"Good." Miranda answered simply before tipping her body forward and pressing a deep kiss to Andrea's lips, the words that weren't said perhaps more powerful than those which had been voiced.

"And you? Are you sure?" Andy couldn't keep herself from asking, knowing that this feeling between them was mutual but wanting to hear it.

"You forget, Andrea, I made the first move." It was a light tap of the nose of her insecurities. Miranda did nothing by halves, made very few mistakes and always dedicated herself wholly to a course of action. Her decision to reveal to Andy, that day after their lunch, what she wanted was as if she'd planted a flag and made her home ground. "I made my decision a long time ago." Miranda said softly, guiding Andy back to rest against her shoulder, her chin curving over the brunette's head before her cheek settled against the soft hair. It was that movement, and so much more, that led to Andy's final words.

"Then we'll get there, one day at a time."


End file.
